No Two Days Are Alike Part II

Tuesday, November 1^st, another warm, sunny, beautiful, down-right hot day.  I had lunch with a friend at one of my favorite restaurants in Cuenca, the “Terrace Grill”.  The restaurant is like an American sports bar with large television screens everywhere.  Usually during the afternoon hours, music video concerts are being played.  This time it was Celine Dione in concert.  Last time I lunched at Terrace Grill a hot video was playing. The Queen of Disco herself, Ms. Donna  Summers was featured in video concert.  The food as always was delicious, relatively inexpensive for a more upscale restaurant, and the service is always much appreciated.

After lunch, we made our way down to the 9^th Annual Free National Art Fair of Excellence, which sponsored art not only from Ecuador, but also from Argentina, Peru, Columbia, and Venezuela.  While every type of art was on display and for sale, there was also a small fair a few blocks down by Cuenca University of primarily fabric and jewelry type crafts.  Music and food was also provided throughout the fair areas.  The dry weather had worked out beautifully for all the week’s festivities.

Wednesday, November 2^nd, I was out to Monay Mall in the evening for a dance festival.  I regretted not having my camera, but the lighting was too dark anyway.  The traditional Ecuadorian dancers were fabulous, and the young ladies were dressed in the most beautifully, dazzling costumes in which to perform.  The dances progressed to electronic rock, a couple who were very good salsa dancers also performed, and the big performance of the evening was fourteen year old Joshua Riveros, as the Zombie or alter ego, of Michael Jackson, who was performed exceptionally well by a college student whose first name was Boris. The two did a rendition from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and as Joshua also performed as the ghost from Michael Jackson’s “Ghost" video. 


All of us went up to eat in the third floor food court after the dance performances as we sat under the behemoth Christmas tree.  Ornamented, white artificial trees seem to be the thing in Cuenca.  The food court was trimmed in Christmas decorations.  Ironically for a northerner from the Midwestern United States, Christmas in Cuenca is hard to imagine as the temperatures continue to get warmer.

Thursday, November 3^rd, an evening was spent with Martha Abril’s good friends, Cheryl and Ray Pawson.   An extended evening of conversation took place, and little did I know when Martha and I left that I next would be on my way at 11:30 p.m. for the block parties that were going on in her neighborhood as well as multiple neighborhoods across the city to celebrate Cuenca Independence Day from the Spaniards.  Independence Day was a humongous day of celebrations in Cuenca.  We made our way through the throngs of people who were listening and dancing to the music, and we walked the six block area while each concert stage was spaced about two blocks from one another.  The smell of food from beef, to pork, to chicken, to vegetable variations all grilling and at the same time filling the night air with the delightful aroma that beckoned to the taste buds and lured the crowd-goers to share in the captivating feast.

The music was blaring, but it was good.  No heavy metal, no rap, just nice variations of South American music from rock style to more traditional  music that offered something for everyone. The people danced, they drank, they ate, they walked, they stood and watched the goings-on, and like us associated with friends they met along the way.  One young man was out cold, lying in a fetal position on the curb when we arrived and was still there ninety minutes later when we left the block parties.  Yet everyone was in good spirits, considerate of one another, and if there were any problems, they were unnoticed by me and my companions.  It was about 1:10 a.m. and by now I was really exhausted and ready to head home.

Friday, November 4^th, I was invited by my Ecuadorian friends to a party outside the city, but I was way too fatigued, and pardoned myself from the invitation.  I slept until 1:30 p.m. and still wanted to sleep most of the day.  Once again at my age I need recuperation time from my high spirited moments.

The festivities of the week gathered steam by Wednesday, which was also the "Day of the Dead". (I know, that last sentence sounds contradictory and weird.) Many Ecuadorians visit the cemetery of their ancestors, and offer prayers for the dead.  The prayers, if necessary, promise a shortened time in Purgatory for their dearly departed according to Catholic beliefs; as one must be purified from the sins of this life, before one can come into the presence of the beatific vision of God in the next life. 

If you would like to know more about the Day of the Dead, which Catholics in the United States call "All Souls Day", click on the following link to "Grimm's Tales".  The Grimms participated in the event, and have an excellent post on the rituals and ceremonies of the day, with many photos

 http://grimmstraveltales.blogspot.com/2011/11/dia-de-los-difuntos.html

Beginning with the "Day of the Dead" began the five day festival in which all schools and almost all individually owned stores, and businesses were closed.  Only essential services and the malls basically remained opened.  There were also two major parades in the city during the week.  One was a military parade.  I saw part of another parade that made its way down Gran Columbia.  Parades really are not my thing.  However, if you like parades, Cuenca knows how to put on some spectacular ones.  

Yes, there are fireworks around the clock.  The fireworks are initially worth seeing if you are new to Cuenca or happen to be visiting, because they can be quite different from the fireworks displays we are accustomed to in the states.  However, Cuencanos celebrate everything with fireworks, so the explosives can be almost nightly routines somewhere in the city.  When I was in Quito, I asked the young man who took me to process my sedula and censo, if fireworks were as common in Quito as they are in Cuenca.  His response was of interest.  He stated, “Oh no, that is a Cuencano thing.  They have the money for such displays.”  

There were literally hundreds of some kind of activities of music and cultural events going on everywhere throughout the city during the five days.  Despite all the activities or possibly in spite of all the activities, there were many Cuencanos who with the extended five day holiday chose to make their way to the coast and spend it on the Ecuadorian beaches of the Pacific.  Meanwhile, their numbers were more than made up for by the large number of visitors who came to Cuenca from the surrounding areas to partake in the week's festivities.

Saturday, November 5^th, would turn out to be the most unanticipated day of all.  The plan was for me, my friend, and her two children to spend the afternoon in Parque El Paraiso, the largest park in Cuenca and very family-friendly.  Upon our arrival a fair was in process.  In the United States, we would call it a “New Age Fair”.  There were numerous booths, which offered all types of massage therapies, herbal jars filled with every type of herbs imaginable, the aromatic smell from aroma therapies, and the incessant smell of incense.  No psychics, however.

The show stopper for me was the shaman.  My friend and her two children each went individually through the ritual of holding some log-like object which while they were shaking it, the shaman would make his way around the individual chanting and shaking a rattle.  The ritual was concluded when the shaman opened a large jar of water filled with some type of herbs, took a big mouthful of the solution and spat it first in the person’s face, the second mouthful was spat on the individual's bare chest, then another mouthful on the back of the head, and finally the last mouthful was spat on the back.  That "ritual washing" was just for each of the two kids.  The mother got additional mouthfuls of “blessings” on her sides as well; whether her fortuitous sprays of water were because she was an adult, or whether they were because the shaman told her she was too stressed is anybody’s guess.  Well, what can I say, there was no way in Hades this guy was going to spew mouthfuls on me of whatever only God knows what he had in that jar, especially with it mixed with his saliva.  I’ll gladly stay stressed, thank you.

I also ran into another expat at the fair who I knew and who had just had himself injected with three syringe shots without any knowledge of what he was given nor for what health purpose.  He was standing in line for the alternative medicine colonoscopy next. Once again, God only knows what that entailed, and I don't think you would want me to describe it if I had hung around to witness it.  I won’t mentioned the well-known expat's name.  He has his own blog, and if he wishes to, he can “out” himself on these activities of which he so willingly and unflinchingly partook.  He explained to me that this is Ecuador and you need to go with the flow.  I’ll let the reader arrive at their own judgments on that bit of philosophy, and when it should and should not be applied.

I did submit to a foot massage and a muscle massage, both of which did help relieve much bodily tension, and for the first time all week I was no longer feeling fatigued.  The price was right.  There were no charges for any of the treatments.  I didn’t have time for the acupuncture and massage combination treatment, which looked promising.  Some of the other offered treatments struck me as more like magic then treatment.  At least my masseur had a doctorate (P.H.D.) in Alternative Medicine.  (Talk about pile it high and dig it deeper.)  My comments are not meant to disparage all alternative medicine practices.  Some work quite effectively, and we know how often M.D. conventional medical treatments leave much to be desired.  I have found massages to be far more helpful, for example, than an M.D. just throwing pain pills at me.

Sunday, November 6^th was “come down to earth day”.  After days of excitement and nonstop action, the festival was beginning to wind down.  The art fairs were in their last day of exhibitions, and some minor music celebration was still accompanying the fairs.  No doubt the evening ended with fireworks somewhere in the city.  Otherwise, Sunday was a day for church-going, returning from coastal vacations, and unwinding and resting up for the return to school and to work tomorrow for most Cuecanos.

Unfortunately, I am so accustomed to not having my camera on me that I forgot to take it out of my bag at the time when my friend and her children were getting hosed down by the shaman, which would have made some great comical shots,  although the participants were taking the whole ritual quite seriously.  Then when the crowd gathered to watch shamans or whoever the men were who walked on red hot charcoals, I was being massaged and missed photos of that as well. I couldn’t even get a shot of two handsome roosters together.  In the short time it took to focus, one jumped into a nearby bush and the other rooster fled in the opposite direction.   However, I do have some generic photos of the “Healing Fair”, which are shared with you below:  (Just click on the link, and follow the slide presentation.)  The photos have commentaries.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimmola/6320509121/in/set-72157628072524372/lightbox/

This is just the beginning of the festival season, which dominates much of the calendar in Cuenca right up through Easter.  By midnight, Monday morning, it was heavily raining and from what I can tell it rained pretty much throughout the day Monday.  Rainy and cloudy all day long.  Like I said, no two days are alike in Cuenca.   What a down day to go back to work or school after a warm, sunny, week of celebration.  I just curled up in bed, and spent the day nestled in the comfort of my condo, ever so thankful that I am retired.

Father's Day, 2011

Father’s Day 2011 may very well be my most memorable Father’s Day. It began with a very nice email from my eldest son, Marc, and a very appropriate and unexpected gift. Both were appreciated by me. In recent years with my sons in the military, and the three of us scattered across the globe, Father’s Day has been spent with my mother, as I would take her out to dinner. Such convolutions in what was once the natural social order of things is prevalent in contemporary American society. This year however, being far from home and family members; my friend, Martha Abril, invited me and another close friend of her's from Oakland, California to have dinner with her family. The day was in honor of Martha’s father and me, the only two fathers present.

We began with the usual introductions and sat for a time in the living room before we were invited to make our way to the dinner table. The living room walls were adorned with family photos. Martha’s parents have been married for fifty-four years. During our time together, I at times wondered what the patriarch and matriarch of the family may be thinking as their family is gathered and as the parents age in years. The memories of joy and sadness, and of successes and disappointments which make up all of our lives; the kind of memories that become more poignant in most families during special occasions like these. One photo of the elder Abrils when they were very young especially caught my eye. To be reminded of how young they had once been. He a handsome young man, and Martha’s mother a strikingly beautiful woman, as they formally posed in the traditional portrait style of that earlier period. The living room walls were resplendent with a kind of chronological history of the immediate family as they grew and aged and added new members.

Needless to say, dinner was delightful. Everything from soup to salad to the side dishes and the main entrée were delicious. It wasn’t the food, however, which made the day so memorable. It was the Abril family. Martha says that there are 3,000 Abrils in Ecuador with 90% of the family living in the Cuenca area. Imagine what their family reunions must be like?

Although I understood little of what was being discussed, and since Martha was the only bilingual speaker amongst us, but was generally preparing and delivering bowls and plates of food from the kitchen; there was little I could understand of the conversations swirling around me. Yet the family often made efforts to communicate with their two guests as best they could. It wasn’t the content of the conversation, but rather the dynamic way in which the family interacted. Martha’s cousin, appeared just in time for dinner, with his reddish complexion and hair, and what appeared to be an obvious infectious sense of humor. I immediately took a liking to him. He reminded me of a character actor like Mark Walberg's brother, who might be found playing a family member in an ethnic family setting. The kind of guy one could enjoy having a drink with at the local neighborhood bar.He and Martha’s two brothers enthusiastically carried much of the conversation.

The one brother, Wilson, must have been talking some politics, because Martha’s friend Jean is Chinese-American and better able than me to execute some Spanish, but was often lost to what Wilson was attempting to say. I did understand Wilson’s frequent references to Mao Tse Tung, Taiwan, and communism. What his interpretation of those personalities and events were, I have no idea.

The most amazing thing about the Abrils is how musical all of them are. Walter, the younger brother, is both a song writer and singer. He will be performing in the Dominican Republic next week, and later in Mexico. His sister, Martha, will be joining him to sing in Italy in October. This is a family with a great deal of affection for one another. The affection is exhibited in their interaction and encouragement of one another, and in the songs that Walter has written. We listened to recordings and viewed DVD’s, and heard a beautiful song of affection that Walter wrote about fifteen years ago to his father. He has written a song of similar vain to his mother, and the Abrils even have their own family anthem.

Martha has a strong and beautiful voice. She is a woman of great feeling and passion, and it is reflected in the songs that her brother writes and they choose to sing. Both are true romantics at heart. Martha’s niece, who is studying to be a medical doctor seemed less out-going than the other family members. However, when she sang the theme song from the movie, “The Titanic”, “My Heart Will Go On”; this was truly her song. I was amazed at the feeling that came forth from her as she sang the song in English. It was as if whatever feeling she was holding deep within her being, suddenly found its opportunity for full heart-felt expression.

All of the men in the family play guitars, but Wilson’s, artistic strength is found in his paintings, drawings, and sketches. The “Last Supper” on the dining room wall was formed by Wilson as he etched the molten copper. The real McCoy here, no sculpture made from a mode. He had a beautifully designed Oriental-styled ink drawing on the dining wall as well.

Last but not least were Martha’s children. Joshua is a handsome fourteen year old, who looks quite young for his age. He was the most reticent of the family members, and was usually the one family member least seen on the scene. However, when I noticed one of the traditional Andean multiple flute devices on display in the family living room, Joshua did not hesitate to play and demonstrate his talent.

Joshua’s eight year old sister, Amy, was definitely the scene stealer. She loves to dance, has a real stage presence, and just exudes the family tradition and love for music in all of its forms. I will be surprised if this pretty young lady does not have a future on stage.

I much appreciated Martha sharing her family and Father’s Day with me. The natural warmth of the family members, and the treatment by them of me, a stranger, as if I were a member of the family, and despite the language barriers, made for a special day for me. No one sat around watching T.V., or finding some other excuse to be engaged until it was time to leave. It did not appear that people were there simply out of family obligation. Having divorce forced upon me while my sons were of a very young age, my day at the Abrils was the kind of Father’s Day I had always assumed I would have with my own family. Some things are meant to be, and some things are not. This Father's Day, I will remember for a long time to come.